Muffins on a Saturday Morning
by WildwingSuz
Summary: Twenty years later, Walter Skinner once again runs into Mulder and Scully outside of work.


**Author's Notes:** I've been thinking about writing a companion story to some of my earlier Skinner stories, and this challenge photo seemed like just the thing to get me to try it.  
You don't have to read my story Starbucks on a Sunday Morning to get this one, though it might help.

Written for the X-files Writer's Guild May 2017 Challenge to this photo: /kxbzuwg

* * *

Thanks yet again to my beta reader Mimic117, who takes the time from her busy life to whip my stories into shape.

 **Muffins on a Saturday Morning**  
Rated PG  
Suzanne L. Feld

 _August, 2016_

I walked into A Muffin a Day and paused, not quite believing my eyes. This was true time travel, as I was instantly transported back sixteen years to 2000.

Though the first time I'd seen Mulder and Scully together outside of work had been in a Starbucks and not a trendy downtown coffeehouse, the scene was nearly the same. My two agents sat in the back, on a padded bench which went along the rear wall, a small table in front of them. Instead of a laptop, he was holding an iPad and she was leaning against his shoulder to look at whatever was on the screen. She had her feet drawn up beneath her, still as slender and agile as ever. And instead of two Starbucks paper cups, a regular-sized coffee cup and an oversized mug sat on the table in front of them.

I still wasn't quite used to Scully's new hairstyle, both the muted color and unflattering cut. Though I would never tell her, I thought it made her look older and her face longer and drawn. I saw her in the lab last week with her hair pulled back into a ponytail and she had looked much younger, and softer, not as untouchable. Still, she is an amazing beautiful woman, today dressed in a casual white V-necked, sleeveless top that showed off both her cleavage and strong arms.

Mulder, as was often the case, wore a ratty old grey t-shirt and jeans, and his hair was tousled as if he hadn't combed it since getting up. As I watched, she draped one arm around his shoulder and toyed with the locks behind his ear, leaning close to whisper something that made him laugh out loud. Obviously his uncombed hair didn't bother her, not with the way she was looking at and touching him. I suspected I knew how his hair had gotten that way, and it had nothing to do with hygiene.

They didn't see me as I went to the counter, intent on whatever they were looking at on the screen. I stood in line wondering if I should interrupt them or just leave without letting them know I'd seen them. Things were so uneasy between them these days I wasn't sure if I should bother them while they seemed relaxed and content. I still couldn't believe that not only had the X-Files been reopened, but both of them reinstated as agents after everything that had happened. But when the big bosses said do it, you did it or risked losing your new promotion and possibly your job.

When I had caught them in that Georgetown Starbucks all those years ago, I'd been happy to see that they'd finally gotten together. They both deserved to have someone love them, and since they'd always kept things professional while at work I'd never called them on it. But now I was rather sad knowing all that had passed in the long years since. I stayed in touch with both of them and knew that Scully had left him a year ago due to his depression, which he refused to get treatment for until rejoining the FBI. Regardless, I could still see the love and deep connection between them.

I turned away from the counter with my takeout cup of coffee and almost jumped a foot when I found Mulder directly in front of me. "Well, well, well, Assistant Deputy Director Skinner, are you following us around?" He smiled at me. He was holding both half-empty white cups from the table in his hands, and I glanced past him to see Scully still sitting where I'd first spotted them. She was playing with the odd little flower in a glass vase that sat on the table next to his closed iPad, and smiled over at me. "It's twenty years later, but haven't we done this before?"

I had to grin back, seeing how we were on the same page. "I was thinking the same thing," I admitted. "Odd, isn't it?" Or maybe not, knowing these two.

He glanced down at the cup in my hands. "Do you have to take off?"

"Not really. My wife's out of town this weekend so I went for a run and was just going to hang around the house today."

"Not the same reason as last time." He smirked, tilting his head to one side to indicate direction. "Why don't you go join Scully while I get us refills?"

I nodded and moved away, wondering if he knew who my wife was. Though I'd told them that I'd remarried, I doubted they knew to whom.

"Walter! Great to see you." Scully beamed, gesturing for me to pull up a chair on the other side of the small table. "How've you been?"

"You know—same old," I said, taking a sip of my coffee. "So what are you two doing in downtown DC on a weekend?"

She got an odd look on her face, one that I couldn't quite place. "My, ah, my place isn't far from here," she said, still playing with the flower and avoiding my eyes.

I got it. I knew Mulder was still living in their rural Virginia house, and that she'd moved back to DC. Although…

"So Mulder stayed the night at your place," I said knowingly. "Just like the last time we met like this, I'm guessing."

A small smile broke out on her face. "Mulder mentioned that when we saw you standing at the counter," she said. "As a matter of fact, yes."

"Are you back together?" I asked to satisfy my curiosity.

"Sort of." She was still toying with the weird flower, which had a middle part that stuck up through the interior of a single wide, white petal. Definitely phallic, but I wasn't about to go there. She saw me looking at the it and said, "This is an anthurium. It's the recognized flower of new lovers, signifying a long-lasting relationship to come. Which seems a little bizarre in this situation. As for us, well, we're working it out."

"I'm glad," I said bluntly.

Mulder sat down next to her, handing her the larger mug which appeared to be full of nothing but pale, swirled foam, and set a plate of muffins in the middle of the table. "What are you glad about, Walter?"

"That you two are getting along better. In more ways than one."

They glanced at each other, then Scully busied herself with taking a muffin, napkin, pat of butter, and a small knife. Mulder nodded slowly, taking a sip of his black coffee. "It's been a rough road, these last few years. But as you well know, I'm either too stubborn or too stupid to give up."

Scully shot him a reproachful look, then lifted her blueberry muffin to her mouth for a bite.

Mulder gestured to the plate, which now contained five muffins. "Have one. I got blueberry, chocolate chip, and apple cinnamon. Help yourself."

Though I don't usually eat sugar first thing in the morning, I was hungry and took one of the latter. They were warm and, as I found out when I bit into it, rich and slightly gooey rather than dry. It tasted almost like a doughnut with the consistency of a brownie instead of a muffin. "Wow, these are really good," I said after swallowing the first bite. "I just stopped in to grab a cup of coffee before I went home, and this was the first place I saw. Haven't been here before."

"I come here once in a while, their muffins really are unique," Scully said, polishing hers off. "I imagine that's why a place that only sells coffee, tea, and muffins stays in business."

"So, Walter, how did you get the X-Files reopened? You never did tell us," Mulder said all-too-casually.

" _I_ didn't. The Director sent it down from on high, and from what I understand it comes from even further up, possibly Capitol Hill. They came to me because I originally oversaw the division, even though I don't normally work directly with agents anymore."

"Assistant Deputy Director," Scully said, smiling at me as she wrapped her napkin around the plastic knife and empty butter packet and set them aside. "Pretty impressive."

I shrugged, though I agreed. Still, had it not been for all the trouble that the X-Files had caused I would probably have been director by now. I couldn't blame it all on them, though. I hadn't been forced to approve their shadier cases and challenge authority on their behalf and help them out of jams over the years. It all turned out for the best in the end. If I'd worked my way up the FBI ladder faster, I probably wouldn't have married Judy and even if I had, I wouldn't have had as much time for my family as I enjoyed now while doing a mostly 9 to 5 desk job. "I'm happy with it," I said, then added truthfully, "With the election on the horizon I don't want to go any further up the ladder right now. I'm going to wait and see what happens."

"I don't blame you," Mulder said. "The political climate's a mess. God only knows what's going to happen in November."

"Let's not talk about it," Scully said, taking a sip of her drink. I could now see pale brown liquid beneath the foam. "Any new cases for us?"

They'd only officially worked three cases back on the X-Files, and we were still finding our way around. Again.

I shook my head. "I don't have anything at the moment, but knowing Mulder…"

He and I grinned at each other. "I have some leads," he admitted. "But for today, Scully and I were thinking of going to the Smithsonian Archives of American Art."

"They've got a new exhibit on the WPA Federal Art Project," she added. "They're exhibiting two dozen never-before-seen paintings and prints from the late 1930s found in Philadelphia last year."

"Though you wouldn't expect it, some are R-rated or better," Mulder said, looking at her with a distinct twinkle in his eye.

"I should have known." Scully grinned fondly at him.

"Interested in joining us?" Mulder looked over at me expectantly.

I was momentarily nonplussed by the invitation, but I really did want to spend the day at our house. "Thank you, but I'm going to head home. As I mentioned, everyone's out of town this week and I'm enjoying having the place to myself."

"Where are you living now?" Scully asked as I stood. They both got up as well.

I harrumphed a bit. "Ah, we have a brownstone on Massachusetts Avenue. Near Sheridan Circle."

Scully's brows rose. "In Embassy Row? And I thought living in Georgetown was prestigious when I had my apartment there."

"Well, we do need extra protection, we can't just live anywhere," I said, now certain that they didn't know who my wife was. "It's one of the best-protected areas of the city next to the Capitol."

"I guess," Mulder said, clearly impressed. "I didn't realize you made enough to live there."

Scully made a slight move towards him and if he hadn't been standing on the other side of the table I suspected she'd have smacked him. "Mulder! Will you _ever_ get old enough not to say whatever comes into your head?"

I interrupted. "We need the security because of wife. Judy Woodward."

Scully gaped at me. "The opera singer? Seriously? How _didn't_ we hear about this?"

"We keep it quiet," I said, but beamed with pride. "You'll have to come by and meet her sometime."

"I would love to." Scully looked slightly dazed. "I saw her in _The Magic Flute_ , what, like ten years ago?"

I got that reaction often when I told people who my wife is. Judy had offered to take my name but I didn't want her to change it when we married as she was just getting known. "She's in New York this weekend rehearsing for _La Bohème_ ," I explained. "When it opens I'm taking some time off to stay with her for the opening week."

Mulder winked at me. "Isn't she a little young for you, Walter?"

Scully was right, he needed to start keeping his mouth shut. But I also heard this occasionally. "Believe it or not, she's thirty-eight," I said stiffly, doing my best to hide my annoyance. "And while that is a twenty-year age difference, it's not like she's a teenager."

"Walter, I'm happy for you." Scully put a hand on my arm and reached up on tiptoe to kiss my cheek with soft, warm lips. I suddenly remembered the time she'd planted one dead on my mouth in an elevator when Mulder was missing in the Bermuda Triangle, though I hadn't thought of it in years. "I'd have you both over for dinner, but I'm still, uh, living in the Homeland Hotel just down the street."

"Maybe we can do something at the house," Mulder suggested, looking at her meaningfully. "Even if you're not living there—yet—we can do a dinner party together."

"We'll see, dinner at a restaurant might be better," she hedged, obviously uncomfortable with the subject. "Good to see you, Walter. Enjoy the rest of your weekend."

"You as well," I said, and started to turn away. Then I paused and looked back. They were both sitting down, eyeing each other but not talking yet. "Hey, Dana?"

She looked up at me, still as lovely as the day we'd met almost thirty years ago despite the unflattering haircut. "Yes, Walter?"

"That flower isn't quite as bizarre in this situation as you may think, or at least I hope it's not."

I could see that she got it. Her grin was like the sun rising, and as I walked away I heard Mulder's voice asking her about it. But I didn't stop again since I had a backyard hammock and some cold beer calling my name.

They'd work it out. They always did.

 _finis_


End file.
